Summary: “You have no idea what I’d do to you,” Dean seethes.
“Oh, I have quite the imagination, Mr. Winchester,” she pants, finding just the right spot and slamming down on him.
Pairing: Dean x you, Dean x reader, Dean x her
Words: 2245
Warnings: femdom, Dean’s tied to a chair, wearing a cock ring, face sitting, things might get a little rough, but it’s all in good fun, female ejaculation/squirting
xox: @glassjacket @boondoctorwho @cracksinthewalls @naughtygirlsarebest @fatestemptress @adoptdontshoppets @pisces-cutie @dean-winchesters-bacon
He’s tied to a chair, arms bound at the wrists behind the chair back and ankles knotted to the legs. He’s gagged with a thick rope wound twice around the circumference of his head, threaded between his teeth as it holds a wadded cloth inside his mouth. She didn’t blindfold him and surely that was part of her plan – to make him suffer, to watch, unable to do anything about the scene unfolding around him.
“It’s killing you, isn’t it, Dean?” she purrs. “To be so helpless, no leverage or choice.” She circles behind the chair, dragging neatly manicured, French-tipped fingers along the width of his bare, sculpted shoulders. “You’re not used to not having power, are you?”
Dean stays still and stares straight ahead. He can feel the goosebumps rising all over his naked torso, but he tells himself to chill. This is what he agreed to after all.
“Maybe you secretly like it,” she speculates. “Strutting around with such bravado like your dick’s too big for this world.” She chuckles. “Maybe you’ve got somethin’ to hide, hmm?” She uses the riding crop she’s wielding to lightly swat the bulge at the apex of his thighs, and he groans around his gag.
“Or maybe you’re hung like a horse but can’t get it up,” she says with a giggle. She can clearly see him straining the denim, but she wants to drag the degradation part out for a bit before she rides him. “Or …” She’s at his back again and drops her head, bracing one hand on his shoulder to murmur in his ear. “You get hard as a rock and are hung like a horse, but you just don’t know what to do with it and you come too fast.”
Dean shifts in his seat and his heart races. She slides into view and she’s twirling the fate he’d imagined around her slender index finger. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she says with a wicked grin and red in her eyes. “Mama’s gonna take good care of you.”
Suddenly, she’s straddling his knees. She slides the handle of the riding crop between is back and the chair, pops the ring between her teeth, and yanks at his belt. Once his belt’s unbuckled, she leaves it alone and jerks his button fly open then uses both hands to pull his cock from his boxers, pushing as much fabric out of her way as possible.
She takes the ring from between her teeth and sighs, gazing down at the pulsing flesh in her hand. “It’s as pretty as your face, Dean,” she says with delight, red eyes flicking up to meet his silvery-green. “Not that I’m surprised.” She ducks her head and spits, heavy and long, then rolls the ring down his length to his base and pumps.
Dean groans with the sensations she’s inflicting. He’s more than half-hard and she’s just pushing him further and further down the line. After several pumps and twists, she pushes away from his lap and stands in front of him once more.
“You’re a simple man, Dean,” she says, removing her jean jacket and dropping it to the floor, kicking her boots off and generally removing her clothes with the perfunctory nature of a person in the midst of a daily ritual. “With simple desires and tastes; beer, burgers, and babes, am I right?”
Dean tries not to roll his eyes. Yeah, he likes all those things – a lot – but he’s anything but simple.
“Well,” she says, her curved and bronzed body nude but for the jewelry sparkling in her belly and her clit. “Let’s see if we can’t complicate things a little.”
She raises her leg in a side kick stance and extends it with a snap, her foot connecting solidly with one of his shoulders and tipping the chair back until it hits the floor, sending the riding crop skidding across the concrete. Dean grunts with the pain of his back, hands, and wrists being slammed to the hard surface at such an awkward angle. He knows immediately that nothing’s broken, though – yet very, very bruised.
Before he can dwell too long on the pain behind him, she’s on top of him, straddling his face and settling her full ass back onto his chest. “God, you’re beautiful, you know that?” She slowly works at the rope that’s securing his gag. “Of course, you do,” she mutters, concentrating on the knot she created earlier in anxious haste.
“I’m taking this gag out,” she says, catching his eye, unwinding the rope. “I’m sure you can already guess what I have planned.” Dean’s eyes flick down to her exposed cunt, spread open and glistening before him, and he can’t help but moan.
She pauses her movements and sits back again, taking him in with an amused grin. “Does Dean Winchester get off on eating pussy?”
Dean’s tried for years to not show his hand, but his body’s visceral reactions to food, sex, and hunting are clear. He likes those things, he’s good at those things, and he is done apologizing for it.
“Tsk tsk tsk,” she scolds, slowly reaching for the gag once again. “Dirty boy.” Her scent and her words and, to be honest, her scolding tone makes him throb so fiercely, he thinks he might bust the cock ring.
Once she has the cloth removed from his mouth and he’s swallowing convulsively to return a semblance of saliva to his mouth, she’s giggling. “Need a sip of water, sweetheart?”
“Shut up and get on with it,” he rasps, his eyes hard and hot, and his breathing heavy.
Her eyebrows jump, and she slowly shifts her hips forward. “Ask and ye shall receive,” she mutters, sliding her cunt over his chin, slicking and scraping him with the winking jewel in her clit, then swiveling onto his lips with her wet swell of flesh. “Oh, Dean,” she moans and drops to all fours when his tongue slips up through her slit.
He wants to touch her, slide his hands over her curves, thrust his fingers up inside her and wrap them around her throat. He settles for fucking her with is thick tongue and sucking her clit with his lips. Then he uses his teeth to pull at the stud, and she squeals.
“Fuck me with your tongue,” she gasps, reaching between her legs and pulling at the piercing. Dean does what he’s told, making his tongue hard and long, curling and dragging it toward her g-spot but not quite reaching it. “Shit, just like that, you sonuvabitch.” She grinds into his face, creating an obscenely loud squelching and slopping.
“Can’t wait for your cock,” she breathes, sitting upright, spinning the thick stud in her clit. He’s moaning beneath her and the vibrations ramp her up. She grips a handful of his soft hair and undulates over his tongue and lips until she’s coming out loud. “Yes!”
She rolls off of him and to her back on the cold concrete and tries to catch her breath, glancing to the side at her companion. Dean’s bare to his hips, hard in every way imaginable as he remains fastened to the chair, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t struggle against it, and she finds his submission to be a beautiful thing.
“This’s a real rush, ya know,” she says, twisting to sit and inspect her prey. “Dean Winchester at my command.”
“Fuck you,” he says, with a blasé tone, keeping his eyes on the ceiling.
“Now, Dean,” she says, climbing astride his hips, making him grunt in pain at even the slightest extra weigh pressuring his already overstrained wrists. “Let’s not makes this unpleasant. You agreed to be my fuck toy for one night if I agreed to release your friend from Hell.” She presses her ass back against his painfully ringed and erect cock. “It’s simple, really. Simpler than you turns out.”
She drops a kiss to his lips, smelling and tasting herself and Dean sighs into her. She pulls back just enough to see the wildfire in the sagebrush of his eyes. “You wanna come, don’t you?” she whispers, and he silently snarls in return.
She pushes up to sitting and stares down at him, dragging her fingertips in random patterns over his sweat-sheened chest and belly. She’s always been enthralled by how solid he is. Even as still as he is at the moment, he’s a sight; but when he’s in motion…
“I really wanna untie you,” she sighs, climbing off of him. “But I’m afraid that bothersome fighting instinct of yours’ll kick in, and I haven’t ridden your cock yet.” She heaves the chair and him upright then straddles him again with her back to his chest and his straining cock in her hands.
“Believe me, honey,” Dean grunts. “If you untied me, you’d definitely be ridin’ my cock.”
“Is that a fact?” she asks, sliding his rigid length along her slit, getting him wet.
“Or, I’d be ridin’ your ass,” he returns with a restrained shrug. “Whatever.”
She shivers in his lap before rising on her tiptoes to guide him inside then sinking down over him. “Promise?” she breathes, bracing her hands on his knees for leverage and moving to find the right angle and pace.
“You have no idea what I’d do to you,” Dean seethes.
“Oh, I have quite the imagination, Mr. Winchester,” she pants, finding just the right spot and slamming down on him. “You’re so fucking big and so fucking hard. Jesus.” She’s got the angle for the hard, swollen head of his cock to bump and rub her g-spot and she’s starting to feel like she’s about to lose control of something important.
“Fuck,” he breathes, jaw clenched. “C’mon.” He throws his head back and mouth open, willing himself not to come like this.
“I’m gonna come so hard,” she whines, slamming down on him a few more times before gushing wet onto the floor.
Then she slides to the floor herself, sprawled in her own mess, panting and seeing spots. She hears wood cracking and feels the air shift and then she’s being lifted, slammed against a wall and he’s inside her again.
“Nice knots, but not good’nough, sweetheart,” he growls in her ear and takes mouths full of her skin as he tastes her neck. He’s still strung with frayed scraps of rope on his wrists and around his ankles. The scratch of the edges rubs into the tender skin of her ass and thighs where he’s holding her up and pressing her against the wall, her legs askew over his forearms. The cock ring is gone but he’s still unbelievably hard and his thrusts are brutal.
“Dean,” she gasps, clutching his shoulders, taking what he gives because she’s got no other recourse. And because she wants this.
“What’d I tell ya, huh?” he says, his mouth on hers is just as brutal as his hips nailing her to the wall. “Believe me now?”
“Dean,” she sobs, clamping around him and tightening the grip of her legs around his thighs, digging her fingernails into his shoulders.
“That’s right,” he whispers. “Come with me, baby,” Dean’s words and hips stutter and he kisses her neck and shoulders. Then he’s coming inside her, long and loud, having the presence of mind to kneel with her so they don’t crash to the floor.
He holds her between him and the wall, feeling her vibrate and he smiles. “We gotta work on your knot tyin’,” he says, nuzzling and kissing her temple. “That was too easy, princess.”
“I squirted,” she says with a tiny, surprised voice, blinking rapidly before removing the red contacts from her eyes and tossing them to the floor. “I thought that was a myth.” She rests her head back against the wall with a sigh, and he chuckles.
“Not a myth,” he says, pushing stray pieces of hair out of her face. “Just needed a little nudge is all.”
“That was more than a nudge Dean,” she says, breathless. “You were so hard.”
“Told ya I like bein’ tied up and bossed around by a beautiful girl.” He tips her chin to look her in the eyes and grins.
The night they met, she was hunting a rugaru and he was hunting a werewolf. They immediately clashed over battle tactics, theories, music in the car once she agreed to join forces, and who was the better Bond. Then they ended up showing each other their scars and telling stories.
She still likes Daniel Craig.
“It was the cock ring, it wasn’t me,” she says with an eye roll.
“It was you,” he says lifting her off of his lap. They both groan with the separation. “You’re sexy as fuck. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“So, I did good?” she asks, watching him tuck himself back into his pants and button up.
“Better than good,” he grins again, palming the back of her head and bringing her in for a forehead kiss. “You’re a natural, kiddo.”
She smiles and lets him help her to her feet. “Oh, my god, it’s cold in here,” she says, suddenly feeling the chill of the bunker holding room.
“Here.” Dean scoops up her clothes and hands them to her, collects their toys, and drapes his flannel around her shoulders. “We gotta get back upstairs before Sammy comes lookin’ for us.”
She nods and scurries out the door and Dean follows, switching off the light behind him.
IncogNinja 